Famous
by GotSwagger
Summary: Evan just wants them to remember his name. CHARACTER DEATH. Hints at Male/Male.


**A/N: **I know I owe you guys a Hotel Shenanigans chapter, but school along with work has been kicking my butt. I have class in 6 hours, work in 10, and this story won't get out of my head. Hopefully I can get some sleep tonight and pump this out quickly XD ALSO – I call The Miz "Mike" in this story. It's just because Mike isn't as weird to type over and over as 'The Miz' is… sorry if you get confused!

WWE = a few days have passed

wwe = a few hours have passed

**I do not own any of the characters in this story. WARNING: This work of fiction involves character death. If this bothers you, do not read further. WARNING: This work of fiction hints as homosexual male wrestlers. If this bothers you, do not read further.

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He was the good boy, the sweet kid, the guy that everyone went to when they needed something because they knew he would get it dealt with. But he never got his push, never saw the top of the card, and he knew he never would. Evan Bourne was a mid-carder, loved by many and maybe even hated by a few; he was easy to like and hard to hate, but he didn't have the charisma of Christian or the mic skills of The Miz.

He was easily forgotten- which was proven when he was out due to injury for a mere four months and his return was met with "who is this kid?" and "Evan who?"; none of this slowed him down, in fact it only made him work harder. He wanted to prove himself, show that Bourne _could _be a name that people wailed as often as 'Cena' and 'RKO.'

But Evan never saw that chance arise.

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"I'm afraid." He admitted, sitting next to his coworker, "I'm afraid they'll all forget me one day. That I will always be a nobody." His head hung lower, his hands tightening on his knees. "I have to prove myself tonight, John." He lifted his head, staring at the wall, "Because if I don't, I'll just be another nobody; another name that fades with time."

"You shouldn't be so hard on yourself, Evan. You're still young." Cena smiled at his friend softly, "You've got decades to go, man. Take it easy, okay?" Evan let out a breath, sighing.

"You don't understand, John." He shook his head, standing up and opening the door, before looking back at him, "But I'll make sure they will remember me tonight." The door closed, leaving Cena in the room alone.

"… Don't do anything stupid, Evan." Cena muttered, standing to get ready for his match.

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The match was horrible; Evan knew he was scripted to lose the match against The Miz- but he hadn't expected to fail so harshly. The plan had been to show that Evan wasn't as weak as he had been previously shown, but The Miz got a little excited and had gone all out on the weaker man. Evan could feel blood dripping from his lip onto the white mat below, his eyes focusing on Mike- who was holding his championship belt and prancing around the ring.

"Bastard…" Evan growled, pushing himself up before flying at the other man. Their bodies collided, and Mike's went flying over the top rope. His feet left the mat, gracing the top rope only a moment before he flew through the air; he tucked his legs, bending his body as he had done so many times previous, soaking in the roar of the crowd as he flew. His body crashed onto the floor as he had not seen Mike roll away, and he felt something in his arm snap- which caused him to cry out in pain. He twisted his body away, curling his arm against his chest as he grasped onto it.

His face contorted as Mike appeared in his eyesight, screaming and trying to figure out what the hell he thought he was doing. But Evan couldn't respond, the pain of his bone snapping through his blood vessels, muscle, and flesh was fogging his brain. Blood was pouring between his fingers, which desperately clamped at his arm. "I landed wrong." He muttered over and over as he stumbled to his feet, his mind a haze- voices not registering along with faces. He stumbled to the back, found the closest medic, and collapsed to the floor.

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"Just what the HELL were you THINKING?" Vince McMahon screamed into the face of Evan. The young wrestler had his arm in a cast and sling, which wrapped around his waist. "You just returned from a four month injury, Evan. Now you're saying you might be gone for another four, if not longer?" Vince shook his head, hissing, "I'm not sure if we can keep a liability in our company, Evan.

Evan lowered his head, holding the tears back. "I understand…" he muttered, the day he feared quickly becoming a reality for him. "I'll pack my things and go."

"You're not fired yet, Evan, but I really have to think about this one." Vince growled out, "Now get out of my sight!" Evan hurried from the room, a lump in his throat. He may not be fired quite yet, but he knew it was a very real possibility. He rushed to the locker room, hoping to get his things packed and to leave before anyone came in. Just as he was struggling to zip his bag, he heard to door open; his eyes closed quickly, for a mere few seconds, before he opened them again and chanced a glance at the door. Justin Gabriel was there, head tilted and looking at the other high flyer in a curious manner.

"Need help?" Justin asked, walking to Evan's side. Though he was a heel on-screen, Justin was actually a rather nice guy behind the scenes. Evan smiled softly at him; he had always been fond of the older man. "Here, I've got it." Justin said, zipping up the bag and lifting it. He looked at Evan, noting the redness in his eyes, "Are you okay?" Justin's voice was soft, true concern on his face.

Evan smiled, reaching for his bag, "I'm fine. Just fine." He was lying, but Justin didn't dare push it. He released the bag, watching Evan struggle to balance it and open the door, and then leave. A frown plastered on Justin's face, and didn't leave for the rest of the evening.

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"I understand." Evan said softy, his hand holding the phone to his ear, "I'll receive no pay, and when I return I'll get a pay cut and wrestle in dark matches for a few months…" He bit his bottom lip; just hearing him say those words killed him. "I understand, Vince… What? Really?" His face brightened slightly. His face quickly fell again as Vince put down some speculations to what he had just said, "I understand. I'd just really like some gold in the future… I underst—It's just tha— … yes sir… yes, yes sir…" Evan muttered sadly, "Goodbye Vince, thank you." He lifted the phone from his head, snapping it closed as his eyes shut. "…. Shit." He hissed, throwing his phone away from his. His hand slapped down on his face, pressing against his eyes. "Why do you always fuck up Evan? Why?" He growled.

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Evan was ecstatic. The cast was finally gone and the doctor had told him he was fit to wrestle. It had only been three months since his injury, but he knew dark matches weren't too strenuous and he could handle it. The fact that Vince had even allowed him to return to the WWE was almost a miracle. It gave him hope, and that was what he had desperately needed in the months he was healing.

His match was against another kid- just barely 23- who was as unknown as Evan himself. The kid was from Cuba, and had a rather interesting character to go along with his story of being snuck out by his father on a boat at the age of seven. Evan was scheduled to lose the fight, as the kid would be moving to the main roster soon and needed the confidence. Evan didn't mind, he just wanted to be back in the ring- back doing what he loved.

The fight was harsh, and Evan was surprised by just how strong the boy was. His punches were let loose without a care, nothing was held back, and Evan had to duck a few times to avoid a few black eyes. "Would you calm down!" Evan whispered in the boy's ear when he got close enough, but his response was a shove to the mat. Evan felt the other wrestler roll over his body, and he heard the ref's hand hit the mat twice before he twisted his body and lifted a shoulder to kick out. This caused the kid to get angry- which confused Evan, as they still had another two minutes schedule for their match.

Evan felt himself being tossed around the ring, and he quickly realized that something was wrong with the kid. Either he didn't care if he hurt Evan, or he had snapped- Evan didn't know which, but he knew it was bad. He decided not to risk it; allowing himself to get thrown to the mat and feeling the larger kid's body crush his own for the pin. The kid cheered in victory, and Evan wormed his way from the ring. Evan shook his head, holding his sore arm as he walked to the back and to the locker room.

"What the hell is up with that brat?" Evan had barely stepped into the locker room before Justin was on him, questioning him about his match. "Are you hurt?"

"Calm down, Justin. He was just a little excited, is all. He hasn't won any matches lately. And I'm fine…" Evan sighed, walking over to his bag and searching inside, "My arm is just stiff, that's to be expected. Really." He found an orange bottle, popping the lid before shaking two pills onto his tongue and swallowing them dry. "And see, the doc even gave me some meds for it." Evan shook the bottle, which held pain pills, in front of Justin's face.

"I'm just worried, Evan. You are back a month early, and then some kid goes nuts on you as if he owns the place…" Justin frowned, placing a hand on Evans shoulder, "You deserve what he has, Evan."

Evan bit his lip, looking at Justin, "Maybe so, but I'm a liability that Vince can't afford to have, and I accepted his terms in order to keep my job." Evan shrugged his hand off, "Can I go shower now, please?"

Justin sighed, his hand back at his side, "Then at least come out tonight with the gang, Evan. Heath, Wade, Cena, hell even Daniel Bryan… we're all hitting up the local haunt."

Evan smiled softly at his friend, "Alright, Justin. Sure. I could use a night off."

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The music was loud, the whiskey good, and the air hot. Bodies rubbed against bodies and memories were forged and forgotten, eyes met eyes and lips touched lips and as day faded to night, the buzz of the bar soared. "I'm not so sure about this…" Evan shouted over the blaring music, looking at the group of wrestlers around the table, "Maybe we should go somewhere… less… risqué?"

"I'm with Evan." Phil- otherwise known as CM Punk- responded.

"That's because you're a party pooper and hate alcohol, Phil." Heath Slater said smartly, sticking his tongue out.

"Someone has to drive you drunkards home." Phil growled, curling his Pepsi closer.

"Just relax, Evan. The music will help you lose focus." Justin assured the man, patting his shoulder. Evan sighed, looking down at the cup before him. Justin had taken it upon himself to order the mystery drink for the man before he arrived. Evan's shoulders shrugged, and he received a cheer from the other men.

"Atta' boy!" Cody Rhodes called from across the table, "Now drink up!" Cody tilted his head back, drowning himself in the liquid that was in his cup. Evan looked at his drink once more before sighing, deciding he might as well. His cup tilted against his lips, and he let the warm liquid invade his mouth and throat. It was sweet, but also sharp, a very interesting taste. He smacked his lips as he pulled the cup away, tongue darting out to lick at the drops left on his face.

"Do you like it?" Justin asked, smiling at the younger male. Evan nodded his head, taking another gulp of the drink. "I figured. You don't seem the burning type, and that was the type of drink I started off with." Evan blushed.

"This isn't my first time drinking…" Justin laughed at him.

"I know, Evan, but I also know what happened when Cena gave you Vodka." Evan blushed harder, eyes darting over to Cena- who was busy blowing kisses at Randy.

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"What d'ya means, 'No'?" The word was slurred, joined by breath that was full of booze. "I jus' wanna play, baby…" the voice gigged, which was quickly followed by a scared scream of a woman. Evan's head snapped up, looking toward a nearby alley. He tried to focus his vision, cursing Justin for a moment at having given him something so strong. He stumbled forward, hearing a struggle in the alley, he knew it was stupid- but he also knew that Justin would be outside soon.

"Stop it. I said NO!" A woman's voice squealed, followed quickly by a slap and a whimper.

"'Ey… what's going on down there?" Evan tried to keep his voice from slurring, and did a pretty decent job at it. His eyes, on the other hand, could not be persuaded to fully focus.

"Noner yer business, now be headin' on." A male's voice responded, cutting over the sounds of a woman crying.

"Sounds like my business." Evan replied, stepping into the alley, "Sounds like you're crossing the line."

"Nah boy…" the male replied. Evan could barely make out his shadow rising from a limp one, "yer tha one crossin' tha line. Now yer needs ta turn around, and git back into that there bar."

"I think you've drank a bit too much, man." Evan tried to reason, stepping closer and closer into the shadows, "You don't wanna make a mistake, do you?" He could finally focus his eyes on the shadows, seeing red on the limp form on the ground. "Looks like you already did." He cursed, yanking his cell phone out and quickly hitting 9-1-1.

"What do yer think yer doin'?" The man snarled, and it was then Evan noticed the blade shimmering in the street light- only as the man had lifted it to point at him, "Put that down!"

Evan dropped the phone, fingers spreading as he lifted his hands up. "Hey… calm down man… calm down…" Even though he had dropped the phone, he had heard the operator answer just moments ago. He hoped- prayed- that the woman had not been cut off. "Don't hurt me, man. Let's just go back into Dan's Bar, get a few drinks, and leave the lady out here in the alley?" He was dropping as much information as he could, still holding onto the hope that the police operator was hearing him.

"You get yer ass over here." The man hissed, jerking the knife toward him. Evan took a deep breath, stepping closer to the man. He kept creeping forward until he was right in front of him. Evan took his features in, noting the crazed look in his eyes. "What are yer lookin' at?" The man growled, seeing Evan looking at his face, "Are yer a queer?" The man jolted back, almost as if he would catch a disease from Evan. Evan didn't respond.

"Yer are? Aren't yer? Yer a queer!" The man was completely horrified now, the knife swinging around wildly, "Don' comes near me, yer queer! Don' lookit me!" He head was shaking back and forth as he paced side to side. Evan took the time to look down at the prone figure of the woman. She had a stab wound in her thigh, which was bleeding a bit heavily, and a bruise forming right below her eye- Evan quickly assumed the man had punched her and knocked her out.

"Yanno what I'mma do, queer?" The man dragged Evan's attention back to him, "I'm gonna do what the bible told me!" His lips spread over his teeth into a huge grin as he jumped forward, tackling Evan to the ground. Evan felt himself reach out, grabbing at the man, but found his motor skills blurred from the alcohol. He felt a sharp pain repeating itself over and over in his stomach, and he cried out in pain- he was praying that Justin would hear. He continued to cry, not realizing that blood was bubbling from his lips, until he felt one last sharp pain entering his chest cavity. His body went numb as his world began to darken.

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"Evan?" He heard a voice calling. He barely registered the drunken man leaping up, running the opposite way. His voice gurgled, his fingers clenching and loosening. "Evan? Are you down here?"

"H… Help… Help… please…" he heard a female voice now, and his eyes shifted toward where the woman from before was. She was sitting up now, her eyes on Evan. Her face was pale, her eyes wide in fear. "I… I think your friend is hurt…" The woman called, and he heard the sound of running.

His eyes drifted up as Justin's face entered his vision. "Evan! Evan what happened!" Justin said quickly, eyes wide in horror. Evan felt something wet drip from his lips as he tried to reply, to ask how bad it really was. Justin looked down at Evan's body, his face growing even more pale- it was the only reply Evan needed.

Evan closed his eyes softy, taking a deep breath and feeling the pain it caused. His fingertips tingled and went numb, which was a foreign feeling. A bit of warmth reached his hand, as Justin took it into his own. He heard more feet running, and soon heard gasps of horror. His eyes drifted open and looked around, seeing the faces of his coworkers- of his friends. He smiled weakly, blood covering his perfectly white teeth. He heard sirens in the far distance, but even he knew it would be pointless. If he didn't die here, on this hard concrete surrounded by blood and tears, then he would die on a hospital bed in the back of a speeding ambulance.

His eyes drifted closed again, and he felt Justin's grip on his hand tighten. "I'm not done yet…" Evan whispered, barely audible. He opened his eyes again, smiling faintly at Justin. "Thanks… for everything…" His eyes turned to his friends, looking them over one-by-one. "If I learned anything tonight… it's that fame isn't important… life is." He smiled a bit, looking over at the woman- he knew he had saved her life. "Thank you for showing me that." His eyes drifted closed, almost as if the last words he ever spoke had drained all the energy from his body. The wrestlers all held their breath as they watched Evan's chest rise again, and then slowly fall. The sirens in the background were met with tears, and nothing more.

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"Evan may not have been met with the fame he had so desperately wanted in his life, but the attendance here today proves what he realized during the last moments of his life," Justin looked around the audience, "No matter how famous, how popular or unpopular you were, none of it matters. What matters is your life, and how you live it." Justin turned, looking at the picture of Evan- his bright eyes smiling back at him. A faint smile touched his lips, "Evan taught me something that night, and I hope by spreading his words, he will teach you all something." Justin looked at the crowd again, lowering his head slightly before stepping off the stage.

Evan may not have been a hero, nor a name remembered by the world in life; but in death, he had made himself immortal.

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I feel soooo wrong for this story! It seriously morphed while I was writing it! It was supposed to be a HAPPY one-shot!


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